Turning the Tide
by pamlin
Summary: One of the admiral's old acquaintances causes trouble aboard Seaview... This is the follow-up to Greek Fire, but you don't have to have read that one to understand this one... As usual, I do not own the rights to anything, and I am not making any money. I'm just having fun! And for the first time, the story is completely in the admiral's point of view... Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

Turning the Tide

Admiral Nelson paced in the nose, watching his crew's expert handling of the boat. He was always a bear, this early in the morning; but this morning was different. This morning, only a few hours ago, in the darkness just before dawn, they had set Commander Lee Crane ashore in Pakistan on a mission for ONI. The man so expertly guiding Seaview through these dangerous waters, heading out to sea to rendezvous with USS Taylor, was therefore not her captain. It wasn't that Nelson didn't have confidence in Chip Morton. Indeed, he had so much confidence in the young man that he was already deep into the design of a boat that was destined for the XO. But the absence of Seaview's captain nagged at him like an abscessed tooth. He didn't like that ONI purloined his captain now and then for these missions into enemy territory. All right, yes, he was undoubtedly the best they had. But he wasn't really theirs. He was Nelson's now, and Nelson hated with a passion anything that put his men at risk…

"We've reached international waters, sir." Chip moved from the chart table to the watch platform, ahead of the periscopes, looking out over the busy control room. He commanded Seaview as if he were born to it, and the men respected him. Things would go smoothly here while Lee was gone; Nelson had no fear of that. But he wanted this mission over and Lee back safely. Instead, he was going to have to entertain an old acquaintance, and pretend like Lee had stayed behind in Santa Barbara with the flu. Admiral Roman Lura had picked the worst time to descend on Nelson for a visit that had more of a mandatory flavor than anything.

_I want to see this boat I've heard so much about... I have some time coming to me... Let's rendezvous somewhere, and I'll finish the cruise with you._

Roman had never had any idea at all of timing. Or of getting anything but his own way. John, Nelson remembered, had despised the man. Nelson had learned over the years to get along with him, but they had never been close. He almost smiled, remembering how John had cursed under his breath whenever Roman had appeared – as he frequently did at inopportune moments like this one – with his list of demands…

"_I don't like him, Harry. I don't trust him."_

_ Nelson watched his old friend take a turn about the room, his frustration evident in the restless energy that drove him on. "I get why you don't like him, but what's not to trust? I grant you, he's annoying, but…"_

_ John, who never stood on ceremony with Nelson, interrupted. "He smiles too much. He listens too much. He scribbles too much. I don't trust what he's putting down in that journal. And I worry about what he hears. And I haven't even started on how he treats junior officers... Or that touch of sadism he has. I don't want him on Seaview."_

They'd been able to put Roman off, that time. And a few months later, John was dead, and Nelson had no time for Roman's foibles. From that day to this, he hadn't seen much of the other man; he hadn't wanted to. It was wrong of him, but he associated Lura with John's death. He wasn't sure why; couldn't put his finger on what made him join the two together in his thoughts. But the last man he wanted aboard right now was Lura. The only problem was, he didn't have much choice.

"Trim steady at one hundred feet, sir. Sparks is trying to raise the Taylor."

"Let me know when he succeeds," Nelson growled sharply; not Chip's fault, of course. He doubted the young man had ever even met Admiral Lura. A pity that blissful ignorance was about to be broken.

Lura had little use for junior officers. In a roomful of admirals, and just one junior, you could bet that Lura wouldn't be the one setting the junior officer at ease. But he wasn't alone in that flaw. There were many who would ignore a junior officer when there were other more exalted men in the room. Nelson hoped he'd never been guilty of that; he knew for a fact that – for all his bluster and swagger – Jiggs Stark had never been guilty of that. Jiggs knew how to value his juniors. Specifically, he knew how to value Nelson's young command team, though he never let them know it. God knew, he never let Nelson forget it…

He couldn't help the smile that curved his lips, breaking his gloomy mood. Jiggs had about had a fit the last time he'd seen him. COMSUBPAC had heard the latest exploits of Madness and Method, and he was not amused.

_"Harry, it's criminal the way you stole those boys! They could both have had their own commands by now! Hell, they could have been the youngest admirals in the Fleet by now! What are they doing instead?!"_

_ Nelson laughed at Jiggs' red face. "Serving on the finest boat in the Navy, and neither of them would want it any other way." He sat down and tapped out a cigarette. Didn't smoke them anymore; the pressure of Chip's silent and respectful disapproval – his father had died of lung cancer, and he'd blamed the constant habit of smoking for it - had finally kicked that habit. But he still chewed on one now and then, wishing he could light it. "Guess you've heard about that incident in Greece?"_

_ "They could have been killed! The two finest sub jockeys we've got! What were you thinking, Harry?"_

_ "It wasn't like I told them to go forth and be slaughtered, Jiggs."_

No, he hadn't told them to, but trouble always seemed to find Seaview and her officers, even on an innocuous dive on a centuries-old shipwreck in Greek waters. Even Dr. Ramirez hadn't known what that ancient ship had carried…

Nelson shook the thought away. Now was not the time to be daydreaming about their little Greek adventure. That exploit would be hanging over their heads for awhile. Who else but Madness and Method could take down an entire antiquities smuggling ring and rescue a hapless marine archaeologist without even breaking a sweat? He could dine out on that one for years, he suspected, even though his command team would hate the notoriety they had gained…

"We have the Taylor for you, sir." Again Chip's quiet voice broke into his thoughts. Nelson almost growled, before he caught himself. He knew Chip was aware of his bad mood; he also knew the XO was doing his best not to aggravate him. Again he told himself sternly that it wasn't Chip's fault. If anything it was ONI's fault for borrowing his captain once again, and Lura's fault for insisting on coming aboard now, of all times.

So he moderated his tone, said with as much calm dignity as he could muster, "Very well, Mr. Morton," and made his way to the radio shack.

Sparks silently handed him the microphone, so he could speak to the man they were racing to pick up. His entire crew was walking on eggshells around him. It really was too bad; worst of all, he knew they would never hold it against him. His bad temper was part of his legend, and in an odd sort of way, they loved him for it. He shook his head, clicked the microphone, and said gruffly, "We're on our way. We'll be at the rendezvous point in…" He glanced at Chip and raised a questioning eyebrow.

"About thirty minutes, sir." Chip's answer came almost immediately; Nelson didn't question it. He had too much respect for the mathematical mind that had figured the estimate. If Chip said thirty minutes, they'd be there in thirty minutes.

"Thirty minutes." Nelson hoped he would be able to get rid of the mike before Lura answered him. No such luck.

"Wonderful!" Roman was on a high today. Working with him was akin to being on a roller coaster. Most days he was on an emotional high, but there were sudden dips in attitude, days when he plunged into the depths of gloom, and everyone around him felt like they were plodding through black mud up to their waists. Nelson hoped they wouldn't have one of those days while the man was on the boat. "I am so looking forward to finally getting a tour of Seaview! I'm bringing a few of my staff along. I know that won't be a problem."

And it wouldn't be… But it would have been nice to know more than thirty minutes ahead of time that they were coming.

"COB, clear out the captain's cabin for Admiral Lura. You can put Captain Crane's things in with me. And you'd better ready all the guest cabins. It seems the admiral is bringing a few guests." Chip had clearly overheard the conversation, bless him. He would take care of everything.

"It shouldn't be, Roman. How many men are you bringing?" Nelson tried to keep the impatience out of his voice; Lura was going to be a nuisance. He could already tell. He would charge through the boat, cheerfully bullying the men, in the certainty that whatever he thought was right and no one could argue with him. Nelson had already had a word with Chip about the man; the XO was always tactfully professional. Roman shouldn't have any complaints about the way the boat was run, even with Lee unable to be on hand to greet him. But then again, one never knew with Roman Lura… He could create a tempest in a teapot without even breaking a sweat.

"Oh, I don't know... Two or three," was the blithe answer.

Nelson caught Chip's long-suffering sigh, and stifled a laugh, listening to the XO's orders to Francis Sharkey. "Better count on four, chief. You can put two in the guest cabin across from me, and two in the one next door. Tell Cookie to set up the captain's table in the nose as usual and keep it serviced while Admiral Lura is aboard. He and Admiral Nelson will take their meals there. Let Dolores know to send invitations to dine in the wardroom with the officers to whomever the admiral brings with him, with my compliments."

"Aye, sir." Sharkey scurried away to do his bidding. Nelson knew he'd delegate the task of setting up the various living arrangements, but would visit with Yeoman Dolores Brown himself. That pair were being watched with avid interest by the crew; Nelson had a suspicion that bets were being taken on when Sharkey would finally pop the question. And whether or not Dolores would accept…

He smiled at the thought. The old schoolteacher friend he had tapped for the job of yeoman to Chip had surely never thought that her life was about to take an adventurous turn, simply because she'd set foot on this submarine. But she had risen to the challenge with her inevitable grace and wit. He hadn't worried about her taming Chip and Lee; he'd seen her handle her kindergarteners, and knew she could twist his command team around her little finger in a matter of moments. But he had wondered how she'd get along with the rest of the crew. He shouldn't have worried. The COB had taken an immediate shine to her, and the rest of the crew loved her. She was on a first name basis with everyone, and she played no favorites. But he knew that – next to the COB, for whom her eyes sparkled, and her smile blossomed – she had a soft spot in her heart for the two she called her brats: his young and impossibly stubborn command team. He wondered if she called them brats to their faces. Knowing Dolores, she probably did…

"… experiments this time!" Admiral Lura's enthusiastic voice finally broke into his reverie. Nelson frowned at the words, wondering what exactly Roman was saying.

"Just a routine whale-counting mission, Roman." It wasn't, but the old lie served pretty well. "No experiments, this time." That much was true; they had come here to set Lee ashore. If Roman hadn't insisted on coming aboard, they would have remained just outside Pakistani waters to pick Lee up in a week's time. Instead, they had to leave that task to whomever Admiral Parker could find to do it, and baby sit Lura instead. Nelson cursed silently, consigning Roman to perdition.

"A whale-counting mission?" Lura's voice contained so much dismay that Nelson had to stifle a smile. It was less amusing when the other man's voice turned playful, and he giggled. "Now, come on, Harry, I know better than that! You're up to something, aren't you? My clearance is as high as yours! You can tell me!"

"Except," Nelson said sweetly, but with an undertone vicious enough to cause the men in the control room to glance nervously at each other, "that if I tell you, the entire Navy will know within a few hours."

Silence on the other end. Nelson nodded; now they knew where they stood. Lura knew that Nelson didn't trust him to hold his tongue, and Nelson knew that Lura was fishing for secrets. Some men did, if they thought knowing those secrets would get them ahead in some way. And Lura always did like climbing the ladder. He was probably angling to be Secretary of the Navy someday. Cretin.

He glanced at Sparks and smiled to put the radio man at ease. It didn't appear to be working, since Sparks still looked like he'd swallowed something particularly nasty. In fact, the only man in the control room who didn't look as if he thought the admiral was going to begin spitting nails indiscriminately was Chip Morton. Whatever he thought or felt was tidily stowed away behind that perfect poker face. Sometimes Nelson envied that inscrutability. He sighed. "Kidding, Roman. But there's really nothing to tell you. We are a research vessel, and it is whale migration season. We are counting whales. You can help with that, if you like."

Roman's laughter was a bit forced. "I'm sure you don't need my help for that. Anyway, I'll get to see the boat. You know how long I've been angling for an invitation to see the legendary Seaview!" For once, his admiration actually sounded genuine. "I want to meet your Captain Crane, too. His name seems to come up regularly in dispatches."

Nelson's stomach tightened. Here was what he had been dreading. He was quite good at lying, it wasn't that; telling lies to a man like Lura, who told enough himself to know what even a very good lie sounded like was daunting enough. If Lura didn't believe him, they would be in for a hell of a cruise. Lura could be annoying when he thought there was some juicy information to be had. "Sorry, Roman. Lee caught the flu bug before we left on this cruise. Will straightway declared him unfit for duty. You should have heard the fireworks." He paused and glanced at Chip speculatively. The XO's bright head was bent over sonar at the moment, as Kowalski traced the Taylor's position above them. Lee's wasn't the only name that kept turning up in dispatches, but Chip wouldn't thank Nelson for throwing him to the wolves. He hated having a fuss made over him. Any kind of fuss. He much preferred to blend in with the background and watch the situation with those eyes that missed nothing. But in Lee's absence, he'd have to step up to the plate. Nelson stifled a smile as he thought about Chip's reaction to the peace offering he was about to make. "But my XO, Lt. Commander Morton would be quite happy to give you the tour, I'm sure."

Chip's head lifted and he turned sharply to stare at Nelson. He didn't say a word, but Nelson didn't need to be able to read those cold eyes to know what was going through the man's head. He smiled warmly, softening the blow as best he could and turned back to the radio shack.

"Oh, well…" Roman didn't sound pleased. Tough. "If you think the second string can handle it…"

Nelson's borderline good mood deflated instantly, consumed by the fire of his displeasure. "Hardly second string, Lura. My men are all top of the line. You'd better show them the respect they deserve." He noted the men's studious nonchalance out of the corner of his eye. Nothing but professionalism in evidence, but he could imagine what they were thinking. "I won't thank you to insult any of them."

The growl in his voice must have warned Roman not to pursue that line of thought. "Of course, Harry! You know I would never…" He trailed off and changed the subject. "The captain tells me that he has Seaview on sonar now. You must be getting close."

At almost the same moment, Chip stepped back to the watch officer's platform and said quietly, "We're in sonar range, sir. Rendezvous in twenty minutes." Without waiting for the order he knew would follow, he began to give orders to surface. Transiting the surface in the middle of the ocean was a daunting prospect for many, since the waves were high and the elements were seldom kind, but Admiral Lura was high enough up the totem pole that they owed him a show, yet still low enough that he would be flattered that Seaview had surfaced to make the final run to the Taylor. He would also love the opportunity to see how Seaview ran topside. She was a majestic sight, sitting on the surface, her manta ray nose gently rising and falling with the waves. And where many men would be nervous about running her topside, Chip had too much experience to make a mistake; it was in the nature of routine for him, and Nelson knew he enjoyed standing on the bridge, directing the sub's movements. It was a suitable compliment, even for a man they both wished at Jericho.

"Yes, twenty minutes out now. I need to speak to Taylor's captain, Roman. We'll need directions on how to tie up next to him to ease your transfer." Nelson listened to Roman's self-important sign-off, stifling the temptation to roll his eyes. Soon Captain Halliburton's deep voice came across the radio.

"Admiral Nelson, good to hear from you, sir. If you'll move to our starboard, I think we can accommodate you easily…"

He broke off, just as Chip announced, "We're surfacing now, sir." Nelson knew that the captain was admiring the view as the submarine broke the surface, water running off her decks, sleek and beautiful in the sunlight. He was not just imagining the reaction; he'd seen it many times over the years. Seaview deserved it. She was a beautiful gray lady, not the type to which anyone could be indifferent.

Halliburton was no exception. "I swear, sir, every time I see her surface I wish I'd gone in for the Silent Service." There was awe in his voice, but there was also an undertone of amusement. He wouldn't have been as highly regarded, if he couldn't laugh at himself. "And then I remember that I'm claustrophobic…"

Nelson grinned at that. "No dark closed in spaces on Seaview, Ray." He lowered the mike and gave orders over his shoulder. "Proceed to the starboard side, Mr. Morton. We'll tie up, there."

"Very well, sir." Chip began giving orders of his own as Nelson turned back to the mike.

"Give us twenty minutes, Ray, and then we'll take your visitor off your hands."

"Thank God for that," Captain Halliburton snorted softly. "I think my XO is ready to keelhaul him!"

Not surprising at all, even if Nelson didn't know who was XO on the USS Taylor. Whoever he was, he'd have been a saint in training if he could handle Roman Lura's interfering busybody ways without getting ruffled feathers. And knowing Ray Halliburton, he would have stayed out of sight as much as possible. Doubtless, his XO had been the one dealing with Admiral Lura… Not fair, really, but Ray had had his fair share of run-ins with one of the most annoying admirals in the Navy. He would have welcomed the chance to delegate the task of handling Roman to his XO. "Well, we might even be able to handle that task for you as well." Nelson listened to the laughter, glad that Halliburton couldn't see his frown. It had occurred to the admiral that he shouldn't and wouldn't leave Chip holding the bag on this cruise. The XO had enough on his plate without having to keep up with Admiral Lura's demands, complaints, and nosy questions. They were all going to be on pins and needles trying to keep Lee's mission from the man… Add to that the worry that this would be one of those rare times when Lee came back injured, when the mission after all turned out to be not quite so routine… One of them would be liable to lose their temper with Admiral Lura…

Why couldn't the man take no for an answer? And why had he felt compelled to call in every favor he could to force Nelson to take him on now? Admiral Parker of ONI thought it would be good cover for Lee's mission. No one would suspect that the captain of a boat that was entertaining an admiral who was well-known to have an insatiable appetite for information he had no business knowing was actually absent in a foreign country gathering information on a terrorist cell… No, the flu story should go over well, if they could just sustain it. Will had all his ducks in a row, even down to daily contacts with the infirmary at the Institute, as if he were checking on Lee's condition. And the men were moped enough at Lee's absence that Lura was bound to think they were worried about him… Which they were, but for a far different reason. The only one on board Roman would have any difficulty with was probably Chip Morton, whose inscrutable features would stir all kinds of frustrated curiosity.

He almost pitied his XO. Lura would take one look, and assume that there were myriad secrets behind that carefully expressionless façade. He wouldn't notice the chilly gaze, or the polite but firm efforts to stave off his curiosity. He would probably drive Chip mad.

Tempting as it was, therefore, to delegate everything dealing with Roman to Chip, Nelson knew he couldn't do it. With a sigh, he carried on small talk with Halliburton as the XO disappeared up top, to guide the boat into place at the Taylor's starboard side. Nelson was unsurprised at the end of the twenty minutes to hear Halliburton's impressed commendation. "That boy of yours sure can handle his boat."

Sharkey, easing closer, as curious as Lura but far more engaging about it, snorted. "What did he expect? That Mr. Morton would blow it?"

Nelson smiled, but didn't relay the comment. Instead he said with quiet intensity. "Yes, he can. It's in his blood, Ray." It almost literally was. Related distantly to the famous WWII submariner, Dudley "Mush" Morton, Chip had been earmarked by Nelson for Seaview almost from the time they'd met… when the lad was twelve years old, and Seaview was just an idea kicking around in the admiral's brain. The lad's mathematical intellect had shown itself, even then. So had his ability to hide emotions behind that stony façade. Lura would drive him crazy, but no one would know it except Nelson himself.

Halliburton sighed into the microphone. "Yeah, he's good. But how old is he? No wonder they call Seaview Nelson's Nursery." He chuckled as he said it, knowing how much the admiral disliked that moniker.

"I don't run a nursery!" Nelson snarled the words, but knew he wouldn't make much of an impression on Halliburton. Ray's sense of humor was always just a little over the top. Now that he'd seen Chip, quietly and competently driving the boat, he would never let the nickname go. Thank God, he hadn't seen Lee… The two of them together were the youngest command team in the Navy…

The hatch opened and Chip slid down, turning to help an older man down the ladder. "Welcome aboard, sir," he said respectfully, and directed the man toward Nelson. The admiral sighed and bade goodbye to Halliburton, then offered a smile to Admiral Roman Lura.

Short and squat, the newcomer had salt and pepper hair, though his mustache was fully grey. He looked around the control room with bright, inquisitive brown eyes as he followed Chip to Nelson's side. "Harry! I've never seen anything like it! She really is a grand lady, isn't she?" He babbled on for several seconds before pausing for breath.

Nelson leaped into the silence with his introduction. "My XO, Lt. Commander Chip Morton. He's acting as captain this trip, while Lee is down with the flu."

Chip nodded acknowledgment of the introduction as he stepped back up onto the watch officer's platform. He didn't really need to stand a watch, but – like Lee – he was hardly ever out of the control room, keeping his eye on the junior officers, always close by if they needed help. None of them would ever admit how much they depended on him. At least not out loud. But their respect for the XO was immense.

Sharkey moved forward to help another man down the ladder. Lura was not as polite as Nelson; he didn't bother to introduce anyone. Instead, he linked his arm with Nelson's and drew him into the nose. "I love these windows! I had no idea that submarines had these things!"

"It's unique to Seaview, Roman." Nelson began to explain herculite, crush depth, and the crash doors. His back to the ladder, he had no idea how many men Lura had brought with him. It didn't matter. Chip had planned for them. All would be well…

"Sir…" Sharkey's voice held outright alarm, but his warning was truncated by a gunshot, loud in the contained space. Nelson pulled free of Roman and swung around, scanning the control room frantically, looking to see what had happened, who might have been hurt…

A man dropped to the floor, gun in hand, still smoking from the shot. He had cocked the gun again, before anyone had reacted, before Nelson had even found his injured man. A sneer, a step, and he stood at the watch officer's platform. "Oh, look." The voice was unfamiliar; the face was that of a stranger… "He's still breathing." He crouched down, setting the barrel of the gun right against Chip's forehead; the XO was down and out, bleeding profusely from a wound high in his chest… It looked serious enough that Nelson's heart stuttered for a moment. "Anyone want me to finish the job?"


	2. Chapter 2

Shocked, profound silence greeted the query. The men in the control room were frozen at their stations, some half out of their chairs. Sharkey glanced at the admiral, his eyes wide, and Nelson read the self-accusation in them easily; Francis always wore his emotions on his sleeve. It was amazing to Nelson that he was the poker player that he was...

An irrelevant thought; Nelson knew his mind was snatching at anything to try and make sense of the situation they had been so suddenly precipitated into. It wasn't until the man with the gun snarled at Sparks, "Alert the Taylor, and he's dead. Do you want to risk that?"

The words roused Nelson from his momentary shock, and he sent a glare around the control room, satisfying himself that there wasn't a man here who would risk that... Gruffly, he said to Bishop, "Get to the bridge and cast us off. As soon as we're clear of the Taylor, dive the boat." The look he shot the gunman and his partners – two more of Lura's men – standing in strategic areas, one behind the helm, another at the sonar station, both armed and clearly dangerous was far less congenial. "I assume you people want us to take you somewhere."

The man grinned, but pulled his gun back, lessening the danger. "Doesn't matter where... Unless you have a desire to take us where you set Crane ashore this morning." Glancing at Bishop as the second officer began his ascent, he sneered. "Say anything to any man aboard the Taylor, and you can organize a burial detail when you get back down here."

Nelson felt his stomach sink just a little, but a look at Bishop reassured him somewhat; the second officer might choose to take a risk while he was on the bridge, but it was unlikely. He had the initiative, but he wouldn't care to risk Nelson's wrath, or the crew's. He wouldn't rock the boat.

The admiral turned his attention to the man's demand. He hadn't expected Lee's whereabouts to be the issue, but he should have known. He really should have known. "Captain Crane is in California with the flu. But if you want to go to Santa Barbara, I'm sure we can oblige you."

The gunman's grin died. He brought his gun into play again, setting the barrel above Chip's heart and said acidly, "Don't play games with me, Nelson. I play for keeps."

Enough was enough. Nelson shook free of Lura's attempt to restrain him, and headed purposefully for the tableau at the watch officer's platform. He sensed the tension in the room rising, but ignored his men's alarmed glances. The gunman watched him silently until he came too close. "Stop right there."

"Or you'll shoot me?" Nelson's words came out on a snarl. "Go right ahead." He didn't stop, but stepped up onto the watch officer's platform, and settled himself comfortably on the floor next to his fallen officer. "Ski."

Kowalski was already out of his seat, crossing the floor, clearly only waiting for the admiral to make a move before he made his own. "I'm getting the first aid kit, sir, but that looks serious. You'd best call Doc."

Nelson reached for the microphone, only to have it ripped from his hand. The gunman completed the job by ripping the instrument completely from its bracing. "You won't be calling the doc or anyone else. We're going to remain here, just like one big happy family. Understand?"

Nelson's eyes narrowed, but he didn't bother to respond. Instead, he eased his arms around Chip, pulling the lad across his knees to give Ski a better look at him. The sonar operator had returned with the first aid kit, and now settled beside the admiral. He unbuttoned the shirt and eased the fabric away from the wound. Nelson didn't flinch, though he blanched at the size of the hole. Its proximity to the heart was just too close for comfort, and only the sluggish flow of blood and the slight rise and fall of the young man's chest reassured the admiral that Chip was still alive. He watched as Ski gently cleaned the wound, dressed it, and wrapped a bandage tightly around it. To complete his work, he taped the right arm securely to Chip's chest, and looked up at the admiral.

"It's not good, sir. The bullet is still lodged, and I have no idea where it is." He looked down at his patient with a frown and his next words made Nelson shiver. "We'll have to keep him as still and quiet as possible. If that bullet shifts it could do significant damage. I'm not liking the odds, sir."

The admiral tightened his grip on the injured man and looked directly into Ski's worried gaze. He could feel the heightened tension all around him as he pondered the sailor's words. The situation was too tight, and at a word, his men would erupt. But if they did so... No, now was not the time. He had to have a plan first, a plan that would minimize the casualties. He looked down at Chip, and drew in a deep breath. Best to defuse the tension now. "We've survived worse, men." He looked up at the gunman, as he continued. "Just follow instructions. For now."

His gaze slid to Admiral Lura, standing in the nose as if forsaken. "I don't care for the caliber of men you employ, Roman."

Lura started and looked away as if ashamed. It was a good acting job, but Nelson knew he'd never been ashamed of anything in his life. Perhaps there was a reason why Roman wanted to be aboard the boat at this inopportune moment after all. But for now, Nelson let him alone, refusing to call the bluff. Instead, he sent a glare around the control room that got everyone back to work. The subtle hum of the engines told him they were under way. Bishop slid back down the ladder, followed by the lookouts, and went about the task of diving the boat. The men were performing well; the glances they cast Nelson's way told him that they were concerned, and ready to leap into the fray when Nelson was ready.

The gunman leaned against the periscope railing, drawing Nelson's attention. "All this tension and concern tells me quite a bit about your boat, Nelson." He smiled, showing his teeth like a shark, his eyes hooded, with a cruel spark in the depths. "Your behavior tells me a lot about you, too."

Sharkey moved casually to stand a little closer, his presence meant to be a comfort. Nelson didn't need comfort, however. He cursed himself inwardly; there had been the chance that they would understand how he valued the members of his young command team, but he had felt he had to intervene. Any hope that they hadn't noticed was clearly a foolish hope. He glanced the COB's way but refused to acknowledge Sharkey's presence, hoping that the gunman wouldn't notice his proximity...

He felt the change in the atmosphere – a heightened awareness - before he heard the soft gasp of pain from his XO. Tightening his grip, he murmured, "Easy, lad, easy..." as Chip shifted in his arms. "You don't want to move around too much." He wasn't sure if Chip could hear him, but he continued to murmur soothingly until the intense blue eyes opened. Confused and disoriented – understandably so – Chip tried to sit up, and drew his breath in sharply as the pain hit. Nelson didn't ask how bad it was; he'd been there before himself, and he knew how bad it was. "Keep still. It's okay."

"What happened?"

Naturally, he would ask that. He would want to know all about what had happened, what the situation was, if anyone else had been hurt... Just exactly the sort of things that Nelson didn't want to tell him at this moment. Instead, he said succinctly, "We're in deep waters, lad, but we'll come about." He kept his steely grip on the XO, hating the feel of Chip's struggle to free himself and sit up. "Keep still, Mr. Morton." He gave the order sternly, and for a moment, Chip hesitated; for a moment only. He knew where he was now, and he knew what was happening around him. He lifted his left hand to pull Nelson's arms away, and the admiral let him go, fearing that the struggle would do more damage than letting him have his way.

The gunman crouched beside them again, his smile predatory. "You see, this is why you shouldn't let me know all about you, Admiral." The way he said the title made it an insult. "I want something from you. And now I know how to get it." He glanced at the other two men. They swooped down on Chip, each one taking an arm, the one on the right, pulling away the taping Kowalski had so carefully done. The XO stifled a cry as they dragged him away from a cursing Nelson.

The admiral jumped up, stalking after them, until the man in charge blocked his way, shoving him back against the periscope railing. "Back off." The snarl was wicked enough to make the crew stiffen in anticipation. "You're not getting anything from me."

"Oh, I think I will." The gunman's smile was lethal. When Nelson tried to push past him, he slapped a hand against the admiral's chest and held him firmly against the railing. The others had dragged Chip into the nose and were now busily handcuffing him to the spiral stairs. Lura looked on, his face twisted into revulsion, but there was something about him that told Nelson he was excited, watching the whole proceeding as if he couldn't look away.

Excited… He knew what was coming, and was anticipating it. Nelson watched the way Lura's face transformed into a bestial mask, his eyes bulging a little, sparkling with eagerness, as he licked his lips, almost as if he could taste the heightened tension in the air. He drew in a deep breath, and stepped closer to the spiral stairs. Neither of the two men warned him off.

Instead, they stepped away from Chip; his wound was bleeding again, and he was far too pale, his young face lined with pain. They both knew what was coming, but the look he sent Nelson told the admiral that his XO was as prepared as he could be for the beating they were going to deliver... At the moment, that stoicism wasn't something Nelson admired. If he had to watch this, it would make Nelson's job much harder, if Chip faced the beating so courageously…

But somehow the worst part was Lura's face, morphed into an animal's look, his nose drinking in the smells of fear and courage, his eyes yearning toward the torture that was coming. Some men were sadists, and Nelson had certainly heard rumors about Lura, but this… This was something else again. He wanted to march forward and interpose himself between that avid, cruel gaze and his wounded officer; but a push against the man holding him back only earned him a vicious slap.

"Now, let's talk about where you put Crane ashore, Nelson." The gunman turned his head toward Sharkey and lifted his gun, as the COB bristled and started toward them. "Stay put, chief. Unless you want to die, too."

"No one's died yet," Sharkey muttered and took another step, his intentions clear.

The gun spoke, and the bullet struck sparks from the deck plating at the COB's feet. "Live to fight another day," the gunman suggested and cocked the pistol again. Two shots fired. Nelson figured furiously. Depending on how many shots the gun carried – at a glance, eight or nine – then he had enough shots left to seriously reduce the odds in his favor; and his cohorts hadn't fired yet.

"Stay put, Francis." Nelson hated to issue the order, but he couldn't allow any more of his men to be injured. He stared into the gunman's eyes with contempt, then his gaze swept past the man, targeting Lura. "Call it off, Roman. I know you're in charge here. You lay one finger on my officer, and I swear you will never get the information you want."

Lura turned his head to give Nelson a startled glance. "How the hell...?" Then he giggled. "It doesn't matter. Tell me where Crane is, and maybe we can negotiate. Isn't that the way it works? You give me something, I give you something." He stepped closer to Chip, and reached out to trace the wound. "You're bleeding very badly, young man. Think you're up for this?"

Chip may have been injured, bleeding, in pain, but that icy, touch-me-not glare had lost none of its power. Roman fell back before it, but his lips twisted in an attempt to cover the retreat with a sneer. "If you don't tell me, Harry, I think this boy will. He doesn't have what it takes." His sneer impressed no one; Seaview's crew knew how much courage their officers had. But Lura seemed to feel the comment properly established his superiority. He nodded to the two men who stood waiting, and they closed in.

Nelson couldn't look away. He wanted to, but he couldn't take his eyes off the brutality of the beating. Blow after blow landed, until the blossoming bruises, bleeding nose, and split lip disfigured that young face. Other punches landed over kidneys, ribs, and sternum with enough power to make their victim wince. The whole thing seemed surreal, as if Nelson were dreaming; armed thugs couldn't invade Seaview and do... this. And the eeriest thing was that through it all, Chip never made a sound, other than a stifled gasp, until Roman – impatient with the silence – surged forward, pulling out his pocket-knife and driving it deep into the gunshot wound. The cry that was dragged unwillingly forth at that bestial act finally broke through Nelson's horror. He shoved the gunman hard, hooking his leg out from under him, and putting him down on the ground easily. Freed from the threat of the gun, and Nelson's own order, Francis Sharkey surged forward, flinging himself on the nearest of the men and wrestling him to the ground.

Patterson and Ski followed the COB, but neither made it far. The last of the three men with Lura pulled his gun free and sent a shot through the plated ceiling of the control room, freezing everyone in their tracks. A shot in the wrong place could break the integrity of their double hull, allowing the water to pour in...

Roman pulled the knife out, wiping it carelessly on Chip's already bloody uniform and turned to Harry, his eyes burning. "You think I'm just an old fool, Harry, but I'm in charge here, and I don't care who lives or dies. You don't want to see your golden boy hurt any worse. Tell me where Crane is."

"No..." Chip's voice was cracked and hoarse, but adamant. "You cannot tell him..."

Sharkey's opponent had pulled free of the COB, and now stepped forward, backhanding the XO viciously. Nelson strode forward, placing himself between the young man and any further blows. His glare had the power to freeze Lura's henchmen in their tracks.

But he knew they had him, damn it. He couldn't stand here and watch this any longer. The plan that was forming in his head was fuzzy at best, but if he didn't do something now, he'd lose his advantage. The men were seething at the abuse their XO was taking, and they would do something foolish with or without his approval. He glared at Lura. "I think you're a certified, grade A bastard, and I understand now why John never trusted you."

_He smiles too much, he listens too much, he scribbles too much... And I haven't even started on how he treats junior officers... Or that touch of sadism he has.. ..._ John's words, haunting him. Well, Roman wasn't smiling or scribbling now, but he was listening, with a heightened air of expectation, and he'd already exhibited that sadism John had seen so clearly. Nelson's lip curled. "And, yes, you're an old fool. Captain Crane is sick in Santa Barbara, and I will personally crucify you if you touch this man again."

Francis had gotten up and now stood near Chip, his belligerent gaze daring anyone to come close. But Lura ignored him, lips curving in a cruel smile. "My men are artists, Harry. They work in flesh, and they can create truly frightening visions." He giggled; far from being annoying, that giggle had become a somewhat terrifying sign of madness. "Maybe I'll let them carve up that pretty face, next." He bared his teeth in a snarl. "I don't believe that story about the flu. Maybe because my sources have told me that you've put Crane ashore somewhere on a mission for ONI." His eyes glinted as he read Nelson's surprise. He nodded to the closest man. "You'll want to get out of my way. After all, I have no interest in hurting you." His gaze swung toward Chip and ignited.

_I know you've heard the rumors, Harry._

John's voice, from long ago...

_Lieutenant Abrams was never the same again after a turn on Lura's ship. There were plenty of witnesses to what happened, but no one said anything. _

Back before Lura had made flag rank, when he was captain of a destroyer, USS Keating...

_He brutalized that young man, Harry, and no one said a word. I've heard he likes to play rough, and the younger the victim, the better. You do not want to make a friend of him._

Oh, yes, Harry had heard the rumors... But unlike John, he had never believed them until today. He struggled against the hands that tugged him away, snarling and snapping at them, desperate to protect his officer. Sharkey glanced from one of them to the other, but stayed with Chip, executing a passable imitation of the XO's patented glare when Lura came too close. Roman ignored him however, focused completely on his victim. "You'll want to have your COB move away, Harry. Unless, of course, you're of a mind to have a new one." He circled away from Sharkey, angling in on Chip's right side, laughing when the younger man's head turned to follow his movements. "Do I make you nervous, commander?"

"Roman, stop!" The words broke from Nelson's lips, though he tried to hold them back. He'd already given them reason to believe that he valued Chip highly, that they could make him speak this way... He didn't want to give them any more ammunition...

Sharkey moved immediately, as if Nelson had given an order. When he wanted to, the COB could be faster than a striking adder. He was on Lura, almost before the admiral realized he was on the move, and his hand coiled around Lura's in his crushing grip. "No more of that." The 'sir' was noticeably absent; Sharkey wouldn't offer any respect to a man like Roman Lura.

But Lura was quick, too, and more vicious than Nelson had ever believed. The hand that held the knife was immobilized by Sharkey, but his other hand was free; he brought it up, delivering a hard, sharp blow to the COB's ear, at the same time he drove his knee into Sharkey's stomach. The chief doubled over, one arm wrapping his stomach, while the other cupped his ear. A thin stream of blood trickled over his ear lobe. Lura shoved him away, sending him dancing back a step or two before he sprawled on the deck. Ski rose from his chair, but Nelson shook his head, worried now that things would escalate. "Roman." He paused, steadied his voice, tried to be as reasonable as he could. "My men are already strung tight. If you continue, you'll have mutiny on your hands."

Roman giggled again. "Will I? Is the death penalty still on the books for mutineers?" He stepped in with his knife, and Chip flinched as the blade sank into his side, but said nothing. "Oh, we can't have silence, commander." Roman studied his victim, then swept his hand back and delivered a hard backhand across the younger man's face. At the same moment, he drove his fist into the bullet wound, finally getting the sound he wanted; a cry of pain that had Nelson's crew up out of their seats, pale and angry. Instantly, Roman stepped closer, laying his knife against Chip's throat. "Do you really want to take that risk?" His voice rose in pitch, as if he were angry, but his eyes glittered with satisfaction. At a nod, two of his men closed in again, but now they knew where to strike to cause maximum pain.

Nelson closed his eyes against the blows, not wanting to watch Chip struggle not to make a sound, but he couldn't close out the labored, almost sobbing breaths, or the cry that the brutality finally dragged out of the XO. Nelson folded at the sound of that cry, before they'd delivered any more punches. "Stop, damn it! I'll tell you."

The brutes glanced at Lura, and then backed away a step, standing down. Chip sagged against the spiral stairs, white and shaking, but still able to protest. "Sir, you can't..." His voice broke and died, and he swallowed hard, against the pain that so visibly lined that stoic young face.

Nelson ignored him, unable to look at the bruises, the disfigured face, the split lip, the bleeding wounds. If that bullet moved... God, he had to get this situation under control. And there was only one way to do it. This was the one time when a lie would garner the same reaction as the truth. After that, it depended on which of his men were quick enough to follow his lead. "We put Lee ashore in Iran, damn you!" He spat the words out, angry that he was having to take this chance, hating Lura with a passion that was almost frightening...

He heard the gasp, the soft hiss of indrawn breath, and sent a silent warning to his people. _Come on, stay with me. We can put this across..._

"No..." He heard Chip's whispered protest, and glanced at him quickly, wondering if he'd broken under the strain, if he was about to call Nelson's bluff. But though the lad was clearly hurting, he still had the presence of mind to go with the admiral's game plan. "Sir, you shouldn't... Not for me..." But he had no more words, as close to passing out as it was possible to be without actually being unconscious.

Sharkey rose from the deck, his ear still bleeding, his hand still wrapping his stomach, but his voice was accusatory. "Why?" he asked Nelson, backing away from him into the nose, playing the part to the hilt. "Why did you give them the skipper?"

"Chief, are you crazy?" That was Ski, chiming in now, as always first to put in his two cents. "They were killing Mr. Morton... How could you stand by and watch that?"

It was the clincher. Lura let the knife drop away from Chip's throat, and pulled a key out of his pocket. "Thank you, Harry. That was the last piece I needed." He slid his hand through the twisted banister rail of the spiral stairs, and released the handcuffs. Chip fell forward, almost at Nelson's feet. The admiral went down beside him, but was immediately dragged back by the original gunman. Lura stalked forward, handcuffs in hand, and knelt at Chip's side. "No, no, Harry, that's not how this works. You waited too long, you see. So you still owe me something." He laughed in Nelson's face as he secured Chip's wrists behind his back with the handcuffs but Nelson thought that delighted laughter was more a reaction to Chip's flinch as his right arm was pulled behind his back, putting a strain on the bullet wound, than it was a mockery of Nelson. "I need the full cooperation of you and your crew to get to Iran. I'm afraid that Captain Crane will cause an international incident. Pity, really." He eased back to his feet, allowing his men to close in and drag Chip to his feet. The XO seemed barely aware of his surroundings, but a flicker in his eyes told Nelson he was watching and listening to the best of his ability.

Roman yawned. "Dear me, it's been quite a day, and it's not even noon, yet. Tell me, commander, where did you put me?" He reached out and lifted the XO's chin with one pudgy finger, turning his head to look at the bruises, as if admiring a work of art. "In the captain's cabin? I believe that's the standard arrangement isn't it?" He glanced slyly at Nelson. "I'm sure it's splendid, and I don't mind sharing. I think the lieutenant commander will be my guest, until we reach our destination." He fingered his knife with a dreamy smile that made Nelson shudder. "I can think of plenty of ways to entertain him." He strode up the spiral stairs, followed by the two men holding Chip. "Oh, Talmadge, you're in charge." He flung the words behind him and disappeared.

Talmadge must be the original gunman's name. He glared around the room, taking in every face, appraising every man. "You've got a good crew, Admiral." Again he twisted the title into an insult. Stabbing a finger at Mr. Bishop, he snarled, "I presume you know how to drive this boat. Set a course for Iran. Top speed."

Bishop glanced at the admiral, collected Nelson's nod, and went about setting the course. Hindered by the lack of a microphone, he had to send a runner to Engineering, but even so, Nelson couldn't help but admire the quick, sure commands. Bishop was a good man; if only he didn't rub people the wrong way…

Nelson went into the nose. He noted Sharkey's position, near the control panel. The red lever that blew all ballast, enacting an emergency blow, was near his hand, close enough that he could get to it before Talmadge had any idea what was happening. They could rock the boat, but… But he didn't have any idea yet how to make sure that Chip didn't take any more damage. He had looked so pale, and the vermilion stain that drenched his uniform had been growing. If the bleeding wasn't stopped, he'd go into shock and die… If the bullet didn't shift first and find the heart… If Lura didn't decide to cut his losses, or…

_"Damn it!" Jiggs Starke paced his office cursing so profusely that the air was blue. "If I could charge him, Harry, I'd have him in the brig so fast he wouldn't know what happened." He turned that hooded, angry gaze on Nelson. "Abrams is in bad shape. The doctors don't know if he'll make it. The beating was that severe…"_

_ "He brought the man in, Jiggs. He reported it. You can't blame him for it." Nelson puffed on his cigarette, watching his friend intently, noticing the similarity between his reaction and John's. Neither of them had ever been able to stand Roman Lura. Well, Nelson didn't like him either, but that didn't make the man an abusive bastard._

_ Jiggs drove a fist against the wall, oblivious to the dent he left, or the way his hand puffed up afterwards. "Did you see Abrams when they brought him in? It wasn't just a beating, Harry. They'd cut him, too. He'll need plastic surgery, and that's if he makes it. He will probably never completely recover." His lip curled at the thought. "I bet the bastard enjoyed it, too. I bet he watched every minute of it and liked it. You know what they say about him…"_

_ Yes, Nelson had heard those rumors from John and others. John in particular was just a bit over the top about Roman Lura. His claims of sadistic brutality, chains and torture, and men too frightened to say anything smacked more of a medieval tyrant, than a US Navy captain. Nelson shook his head. "You can't prove anything, Jiggs." Besides, Lura was too soft, too round and squat. Nelson couldn't imagine so ludicrous a figure as the protagonist in some nightmarish other life._

_ "I believe what they say. I've seen too many kids end up like Abrams." Jiggs closed his eyes and looked suddenly old and tired. "We don't need men like him, Harry…"_

Nelson snarled reflexively, shuddering inside as he thought of all the cruel and sadistic things Lura could do. God help them all, if Roman did anything more; Nelson would personally crucify him…


	3. Chapter 3

Silence reigned in the control room. Nelson had watched as Bishop brought the boat to her new course, heading for Iran, keeping his eye on the volatile members of the crew; the ones more likely to jump Talmadge now, and damn the consequences. But though he watched in silence with narrowed eyes, his mind was charging forward, working out piece by piece what Lura was up to.

_I'm afraid that Captain Crane will cause an international incident. Pity really._

What did that mean? Lee would most certainly not cause an international incident. He wasn't in uniform; they wouldn't know he was an Naval officer. If they caught him, he'd just be a nosy American. Chances were he'd be shot… Or worse… This particular terrorist cell favored beheadings. They filmed them and posted them at various sites on the Internet. Nelson flinched at the thought…

The only way that Lee's capture or death would cause an international incident would be if the men he'd gone to spy on knew he was a Naval officer… And the only way they could know that…

Nelson's eyes widened a bit at the implication. Lura's intel about the mission hadn't included Lee's whereabouts. He had come here to get that little tidbit straight from Nelson himself. Yet he seemed certain that there would be an incident, that he would be called upon to deal with it… Why? What strings had he pulled now?

And how had he gotten intel on the mission in the first place? Nelson contemplated that with a curled lip. Lura had feelers spread throughout the Navy's myriad organizations. Jiggs had once complained that even his office wasn't safe from Lura's meddling. If he had someone planted in COMSUBPAC's office, he undoubtedly had a plant in ONI. But his informant apparently wasn't high enough up the ladder to provide more than a cursory report on Lee's actions. Thank God for that…

But when they reached Iran, what would Lura do? How would he insure that his prediction of an incident came to pass? He surely didn't have the contacts to spread the word of Lee's rank. Nelson looked at Talmadge speculatively. No, Lura wouldn't dirty his hands with direct contact. But clearly he had men to do his dirty work. Was it Talmadge who had the contacts, or one of the bruisers? Interesting question, but Nelson wasn't sure that the answer really mattered.

They had no way to contact the rest of the boat. Talmadge had put a stop to any runners, except the one to the engine room. There would be no contact with anyone else on the boat. Will was either still in ignorance that his services were desperately needed, or he knew and was powerless to do anything. If he knew, it would be because Lura was gloating about it.

But it would be necessary for the rest of the crew to know that Lura had a hostage; one who was valuable not just to Nelson, but to the crew. They grumbled sometimes about the youth of their command team, but to a man they would follow the pair into hell and back. Lura's intention had undoubtedly been to force Nelson to choose one over the other. There had been a time when Nelson had even thought he could do that. He knew better now; Pem's lesson was an unforgettable one. But he was aware that most people – probably including Lura – thought the one he valued most was Lee. He had tipped his hand to Talmadge without meaning to, and now Lura knew what he had. He would broadcast that fact to the crew, to insure their cooperation.

And then he would retreat to Lee's cabin and do God knew what to his hostage.

The growl was loud in the silence, drawing the attention of all the men in the control room. Talmadge merely smiled, clearly enjoying Nelson's rage and helplessness. The crew shot pleading glances at the admiral, hoping that he would let them loose, but he didn't dare. Not until he had some kind of plan for getting Chip away from Lura…

And to have a plan, he needed to know what Lura was going to do... How was Lee going to cause an international incident? Nelson frowned. Well, if they made it to Iran's waters, and were found there, Seaview would cause an international incident. But unless Lee got caught and was found to be a US Naval officer, there was no way he could precipitate a declaration of hostility.

Was that it? Was Lura intending to betray Lee, so that his capture would cause comment? Or was he planning to capture Lee himself, then turn him over to the government... Or the terrorists? But then he would have to know that Nelson was lying. The terrorist cell that Lee was targeting had no operatives in Iran. If Lura knew which terrorists the captain was after, then he would know Iran was a red herring…

But he didn't… He had accepted Nelson's lie without question. So he didn't know, couldn't know which terrorist cell was being investigated. Nelson's eyes narrowed as he thought about that. So Lura knew Lee was on a mission, but he didn't know what the mission was. He knew they had set Lee ashore somewhere, but he didn't know where. He had come here depending on Nelson to tell him what he wanted to know. Which meant that when push came to shove, he would depend on Nelson to get him to Lee…

Or contact him? Was Lura crazy enough to think that Nelson would contact Lee and lure him somewhere, where that suggested incident could take place?

_ But somehow the worst part was Lura's face, morphed into an animal's look, his nose drinking in the smells of fear and courage, his eyes yearning toward the torture that was coming. Some men were sadists, and Nelson had certainly heard rumors about Lura, but this… This was something else again._

Oh, yes… Roman was definitely crazy enough. His bestial anticipation of the beating his men had given Chip was proof of that. Nelson pondered that madness. Roman was living in a fantasy world. He thought he'd gotten Nelson to tell him where Lee was; and now he thought he could get Nelson to contact Lee and lure him back to Seaview. And the international incident would indeed be caused by Seaview being found in Iran's waters… Captained by Lee Crane. Lee's reputation would be in ruins… Seaview would probably be destroyed. The men aboard her prisoners in a foreign prison, until the government could decide what to do about them… But Lee would pay the ultimate price as captain of the boat.

But why? How would Lura benefit? He was aboard Seaview, too. As an active admiral of the US Navy, he would bear a great deal of the blame himself. What was his escape route…?

Nelson drew his breath in sharply, as the plan suddenly unfolded before him. Lura had intended himself as the hero. Lee Crane was to be the villain, the traitor who had brought this boat into Iran's waters, perhaps had planned to sell it to a terrorist group… Chip's condition – if he were still alive when all this was over – would earmark him as the patriot who had resisted Lee's treachery and paid the price for it. Nelson didn't yet know what role he was intended to play, but it was undoubtedly not a flattering one. Yes, there would be an international incident, and Lee would die – before a firing squad after a mockery of a trial, most likely. The US government wouldn't do anything to help him, in the interests of keeping the peace between the two countries. After Nelson and his men had suffered the brutality of a foreign prison for a suitable length of time, Nelson at least could look forward to being ransomed… If he were still alive. His officers likely would be ransomed as well. The fate of his crew was less certain. They might be rescued, or they might be left to rot. They wouldn't be important to anyone but Nelson…

But Lura would be feted by both countries as the hero who had averted a war, or at the very least a declaration of hostility by his quick action. The man with the right skills, in the right place, at the right time. His reputation would soar, carrying him to greater heights, while Nelson and his boat would sink…

_"Why do you let him hang around here? Can't you tell he's jealous of you?" John snorted derisively, and set his coffee cup down with a sharp click. "Roman Lura would be glad if you were dead, you know."_

Nelson had privately agreed that Lura was jealous, but he hadn't believed in that darker side that John saw so clearly. If this was meant to be revenge against Nelson, he couldn't have chosen a better way: losing his command team, whom he had come to look on in a strangely paternal light, would be a blow, perhaps a fatal one. But Roman had clearly forgotten who he was dealing with. Nelson never ever went down without a fight. Lee was safe; even if he had been in Iran, instead of Pakistan, Nelson had no way to contact him. It was the main bone of contention between the admiral and Lee over these ONI missions. Lee's only contact would be another ONI agent. This time Seaview wouldn't even be the extraction agent… Because of Roman Lura's nefarious schemes.

The best way to help Chip was to put a man in the room with Lura. And Nelson thought he knew how to do that. He turned to Talmadge, his face hard. "I suppose Roman will want something for lunch."

Talmadge laughed. "He'll be too busy entertaining his guest." He watched Nelson wince with a wicked smile. "You want to know what he's doing, don't you?" He shook his head, eyes glittering. "Your boy would have been smarter to act scared, or at least give us some entertainment, a little struggle, maybe a scream, you know?" He snorted contemptuously. "Instead, he had to be all brave and stoic." He ran his hand along the periscope railing contemplatively, a smile still playing about his lips as he taunted Nelson. "Lura loves stoic. He loves breaking stoic. And if stoic is also young and handsome, that's a bonus." He stepped closer, invading Nelson's space. "Your boy is definitely stoic. He's a pretty one, too. He won't be either when Lura's finished." He leaned in closer, his breath a heat in Nelson's face. "Wish I could be there to see."

Nelson clenched his fists, but refused to rise to the bait. "The Roman I know wouldn't say no to a good lunch. Our chef is the finest in or out of the Navy. Let me send Ski down to the galley to pick something up for him."

"Sucking up, Nelson? It won't gain you anything." Talmadge turned away as if there were no further sport to be had in baiting the admiral. "Fine. But **Ski **doesn't go anywhere but the galley and the captain's quarters."

Ski didn't even wait for Nelson's go-ahead. He was out of his chair and out of the control room in seconds. Nelson was confident he understood his role in the drama about to unfold. But they would have to give him time to get into position. Fifteen minutes. Maybe twenty, just to be sure…

Talmadge didn't seem to realize that sonar was the one station in the control room that should be manned at all times. He scowled when Bishop quietly ordered Patterson to take over for Ski, and waved the gun toward the second officer. "What are you up to? Think I'm stupid? We don't move anyone around!"

Nelson moved closer to protect Bishop from that gun, but Bishop, for once, showed his quality, the spark that had earned him his place on Seaview. "We need to have sonar manned, or we just might run into a sea mount. Or worse." He sneered at the gun pointed his direction. "Put the damned gun away. You **are** stupid, but we're not. We won't risk Mr. Morton's life."

"Amen to that," Sharkey muttered loudly. Talmadge glanced at him, then looked around the control room at the stony faces and backed down. Clearly not the stoic type.

Bishop shot a glare that wasn't even a pale imitation of Chip's around the control room; it didn't have the same power, but the men knew what it meant, and went back to work. Bishop's gaze met Nelson's, and he nodded, indicating his readiness. Nelson had never liked him so well.

Fifteen minutes past… Ski should have had enough time to get to the galley, explain the situation to Cookie, and then go to the captain's quarters. With luck, he would be inside by now. But still, Nelson gave him five more minutes, just in case. He knew the men were waiting for his signal. They could take Talmadge, that was a given… As long as there was no communication with the rest of the boat, Lura would never know that the control room was no longer his. But the whereabouts of the other two goons worried Nelson.

Still, they might never have a better chance than this. If Cookie had managed to unobtrusively slip Ski the gun he kept in the galley; if Ski were right inside the cabin, where he could protect Chip; if the other two men weren't there in the cabin as well… If… Far too many ifs, but they had no way to gather intel at this point. Nelson glanced at Sharkey; the COB would understand that brief meeting of the minds. He laid his hand on the red lever, casually. Now they needed a distraction…

Pat stepped up to the plate. "Mr. Bishop, sir, I'm getting something on sonar."

Bishop started to move toward him, but Talmadge intervened. "What is this? Some kind of trick? You don't move." He turned sharply to face Bishop, giving Nelson the opportunity he needed. He stepped up behind the man, and wrapped his arm around Talmadge's throat. At the same moment, Sharkey pulled the lever.

Seaview groaned and shuddered, then shot upwards. The deck listed sharply, bringing Talmadge thumping back against Nelson's chest, struggling to breathe as the admiral tightened his grip. Bishop leaped forward, wrapping his hand around the gun and pulling it from Talmadge's grasp.

Seaview's list increased dramatically, tossing them all in a heap near the chart table. Talmadge struggled free, but without his gun, he was no match for either Bishop or Nelson, and certainly not a match for both of them. They soon had the man subdued, and Bishop unhesitatingly pulled his belt off and began to tie Talmadge's hands.

Nelson struggled against the listing deck to get to his feet again. Sharkey's hand under his elbow helped him, and he grabbed onto the plot table as Seaview continued her ascent, shuddering and bucking with the speed. Any moment, now, she would break the surface, then slap down on the waves, righting herself, but causing yet another jolt that Nelson hoped would shake up Lura and his remaining men enough that they could capture them and incarcerate them. He glanced at Sharkey. "Francis. Find those men."

"Aye, sir." Sharkey sped from the room, taking Riley and Malone with him. Bishop had already moved to the radio shack, and now Nelson tuned in to what he was telling Sparks.

"Radio our position to the Taylor. She's been tailing us."

Nelson looked at the second officer sharply. "Mr. Bishop, explain yourself."

Bishop shot him a glance that might have held the tiniest bit of uncertainty. His voice, however, was nothing but confident. "When we were casting off, one of the men on the Taylor asked where Mr. Morton was. So... I answered his question and requested that they tail us prepared to offer assistance if necessary." He paused, and his confidence evaporated in the heat of Nelson's scowl. "There was no one watching me... I... It seemed the thing to do, sir..."

It had been the right thing to do, absolutely. Nelson was simply surprised that Bishop had thought of it, and inwardly chastised himself. There was nothing wrong with Bishop's brain. He had been hand-picked along with the rest because he was good. It wasn't his fault that his social graces left something to be desired; Nelson doubted he even knew how he alienated the men. He did and said the right things all the time, yet somehow he subtly repelled people... Nelson shook his head and hastened to reassure his officer. "You did the right thing, Mr. Bishop. I admire your initiative. By all means, contact the Taylor, Sparks."

He turned away, headed for the spiral stairs, his need to see what was happening with Lura a physical ache in his head. He ran upward lightly, and found Alfaro coming toward him at a run. "Sir!" The crewman stuttered to a halt and all but saluted. "Ski says Lura is secure, sir, but you'd better get down to Sick Bay fast. The chief has the other two guys in the brig." He pressed himself flat against the wall to allow the admiral to pass him. Nelson didn't even wait for the rest of the report. He ran down the corridor, making for Sick Bay on the double.

When he came in he found the room bustling with activity. Will stood next to a gurney, his hands and uniform splattered with blood. Frank and John were frantically starting an IV, inserting tubes, working as quickly and efficiently as possible. Nelson slid to a stop and stared, his heart rampaging in his chest. "Will?"

Will shot him an agonized glance. "It's not good. I can't get the bleeding stopped. He needs a blood transfusion." He took a deep breath, leaning in to apply pressure to the gunshot wound. "The bullet's too deep, Harry. I need to get him to a hospital as quickly as possible. It's laying right alongside the pericardium, very close to a major artery. If it shifts and nicks the artery, or tears the pericardium, we'll lose him." He snapped an order at the corpsmen, and met Nelson's eyes starkly. "I can't do the surgery here. I need an absolutely stable environment, or I might cause more damage than I can fix. We have to medevac him."

Nelson nodded, but his heart sank like a stone; he could get them off, using the flying sub, but he couldn't go with them. Under the circumstances, he had to stay on the boat, contact Admiral Parker, and somehow get word to Lee what was going on. It wouldn't be right to let him be for the duration of his mission and then let him come home to... No, he had to stay here. "I'll tell Sharkey to prep FS1. We'll get you to the nearest base. The Taylor won't work for you, either, will it?"

Will shook his head, and eased up on the wound so that John could clean it and dress it. "What the hell kind of sadists were these people? He's been badly beaten, and Ski says Lura was cutting him when Ski entered the cabin. Harry..." He trailed off, truly at a loss for words.

Nelson laid a hand on his shoulder, careful to stay out of the doctor's way, but wanting to offer an encouragement he didn't feel. "You'll pull him through, Will. You always do..."

Will just shook his head. "There are some things I can't fix. Just get me to a hospital, and I'll see what I can do about this..."

Nelson turned away and left Sick Bay to return to the control room.

All eyes turned to him when he came down the spiral stairs. Ski was back in his place at sonar, and Sharkey, Riley, and Malone had also returned. Their agonized expressions, full of a fearful sort of hope, made Nelson long to retreat. But he couldn't, of course. "Francis, prep FS1 for immediate departure. Will says we have to medevac Mr. Morton. You'll be the pilot. Choose a co-pilot."

"Aye, sir. Pat, with me." Sharkey headed for the flying sub's hatch, followed by Patterson. As they descended into the little yellow sub, the control room went strangely, hollowly silent, empty of everything... Empty of hope...

"Will's the best there is," Nelson heard himself say, an attempt to take the despairing look out of the eyes still turned on him. "There's nothing to worry about."

"I have Captain Halliburton, sir. He wants to know what assistance he can lend us." Sparks broke in quietly, his voice strained. "I've told him we have prisoners to transfer, and asked for medical assistance, since our CMO will be accompanying a patient to the nearest base.

"Well done, Sparks." Nelson drifted closer to the watch officer's platform where Bishop stood, as stunned as the other men. "Mr. Bishop, you'll be acting captain. Get this boat headed for Pakistan. We'll wait just outside her waters."

"Aye, sir." Bishop began to issue orders; Nelson was pleased to see that not a man objected to his decision. He could have passed over Bishop, taken the command on himself... But the man had earned this; he wouldn't embarrass him, and Bishop was perfectly capable of command. It was the right decision.

"Sparks, contact Admiral Parker, please. We'd better let him know the situation here." Get the boat back on an even keel as quickly as possible. He'd established who was in charge, and now he would notify Admiral Parker of Lura's treachery. They would transfer prisoners to the Taylor, and then head for Pakistan. If Parker were smart, he would pull Lee out now, and get another agent to do this job. They couldn't leave Lee in the dark about what had happened here, and Parker couldn't expect him to work when he might have been compromised.

The radio crackled; Sparks relayed a message. "Chief Sharkey says they're loaded and ready to launch, sir."

Nelson crossed to the radio shack and took the mike that Sparks handed him. "Good luck, COB. You may launch when ready."

"Aye, sir."

A few moments later, the telltale jolt that heralded the detachment of FS1 from her berth shook Seaview. Sharkey would take her out a ways before he broke the surface. The Taylor was very close, and Bishop was already sending a detail topside to tie up to her. It was safer to go airborne farther away. Nelson sent a quick prayer after the departing sub, and turned to other matters...


	4. Chapter 4

Six days... Nelson paced the waiting room with fierce impatience. He had contacted Admiral Parker, but the idiot had refused to allow Seaview to make an early pick-up. He had instead sent in one of his own ONI agents, and tapped SSN Virginia for the extraction. He had ordered Seaview back to the US Naval Base in Oman, but Nelson had defied him; he didn't like being ordered around, and he wasn't about to be ordered around by the head of ONI. So instead, he took Seaview to Australia, where he allowed an hour or two of leave for his exhausted but anxious men, then went straight on to Pearl Harbor at flank speed. Pushing the engines that hard would mean a full overhaul when they reached home at last, but Pearl was where his XO had been taken, and he needed to see how the man was.

That had taken about a week. When the boat docked at Pearl, someone had been waiting to tell Nelson that Lee had finally been tracked down in Pakistan, and was now heading back to the coast to board Virginia. Captain Waters would take him to Masirah in Oman, where he would fly to Pearl. But there had been no word yet as to whether he had been successfully extracted from Pakistan, whether he was on his way. Nelson admitted that he could do with Lee's presence. At least he wouldn't be pacing this waiting room alone, in a flaming temper, because his XO was in an induced coma in ICU. If Lee were here, his energies would be directed at calming Lee down, instead of brooding about Chip's chances.

Six days since they'd arrived at Pearl. He had already had an argument with Parker about his refusal to go to Masirah himself. Naturally, he'd won that argument. He was retired, and even so he outranked Parker. The head of ONI had had to back down, when he discovered that COMSUBPAC – Jiggs Stark, Nelson's best friend since the Academy – was not going to back up a two-bit interfering busybody like Parker. Neither of them had any real love for ONI.

But after that fight, he'd been stuck here, pacing back and forth waiting for news, waiting for Will to give him the day's report. Six days... And everyday, the report was the same, and Nelson was getting tired of it. He had never been the sort of person who worried when things didn't go his way. Instead, he lost his temper, and bullied everyone into doing what he wanted them to; he forced things to go his way.

But he couldn't force Jackie Waters to hurry up and pull Lee out of Pakistan, and he couldn't force Chip to heal... Instead, he had to deal with it. He huffed and turned to pace toward the door once again. Not knowing Lee's whereabouts was killing him; not knowing **still**, after so many days of anxious queries from the crew, from friends, like Jiggs, who knew him well, whether or not Chip would survive was killing him. And he had to wait – the thing that irked him above all; God, how he hated waiting – to find out the answers to questions that he wanted answers to, right now.

He saw someone running past the waiting room through the glass block that distorted shapes in the hallway; you couldn't tell who was out there; only that someone was out there. He had grown to ignore those strangely attenuated shapes, but there was a familiarity about this one. He wondered if it were Will running down the hall; dreaded the thought that it was Will, because he could only think of one thing that would make Will dash past the waiting room like that...

Nelson shut the thought down immediately with a growl. Whoever it was, it wasn't Will; he refused to allow it to be Will. Instead, he turned his back on the glass and paced toward the windows again.

The view was breathtaking; Hawaii's legendary beauty almost overwhelmed the senses. But Nelson didn't see the pristine beaches, or the palm trees swaying in the breeze. He didn't see the sun-drenched sand, or the deep sea-green waves sweeping in toward shore. Instead, he scowled at memories that he couldn't shake out of his head. He had transferred Lura to the Taylor, because he couldn't keep the man aboard Seaview; the crew would have undoubtedly lynched him; hell, Nelson might even have helped. Anger and helplessness had hung over the boat the entire voyage to Australia, and even the few hours of shore leave that had been allowed hadn't eased the atmosphere of dread that dogged Seaview on her way to Pearl. The crew – in the form of Francis Sharkey – asked daily how the XO was. The officers – in the form of Lt. O'Brien – also asked daily.

Meanwhile, Mr. Bishop oversaw the boat; he was beginning to show some strain. He had never been acting captain before; he had never been in charge of Seaview as long as this. He dreaded Lee's return, afraid of what the captain would find wrong, even though there was nothing to find. Bishop had done a fine job. He had made Nelson realize how unfair he had been to the officer. He shouldn't be holding him back here; Bishop deserved a chance to blossom, and Seaview clearly wasn't the venue for him... It was sad, really, because Bishop did everything right... Nelson would have liked to hold on to him.

But he would have a talk with Bishop when all this was over; he thought the man might even be relieved when they were through. He would be sorry to lose him, but Bishop had solid opportunities before him in the regular Navy. This boat and these men hadn't warmed to him, but another boat, other men would. His clear abilities would be recognized. Here on Seaview, with two men above him who were outstanding, and so many other stellar officers below him, he was stagnating, with nowhere to go, really... It was time to let him go, so that he could rise higher. On Seaview, he never would...

Nelson closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. He hadn't ever really thought that anyone he'd hand-picked wouldn't be a match for Seaview. John had warned him, but he always went his own way. He had done a disservice to Bishop by holding onto him so long when clearly this wasn't the position for him. He would speak to Jiggs before he spoke to Bishop. Jiggs would be able to tell him if there were a boat for the man in the regular Navy. Bishop deserved to be XO at the very least. Judging from how he'd performed the last few days he would make a fine captain...

The door opened. Nelson swung around, expecting to see Will, and drew his breath in sharply...

Lee stood just inside the door, but it was a Lee who looked... defeated. He had clearly come straight from the plane and his uniform was disheveled, his hair mussed, his eyes with no spark in them. He looked exhausted, the dark lines under his eyes sagging, and his mouth pinched. But he was alive and unhurt, and Nelson couldn't remember when he'd been so glad to see him. "Lee, son, it's good to see you!" He paused, wondering what else to say. He couldn't ask about the uncompleted mission, nor could he find the words to talk about Lura's attack. So he stood in silence, waiting for Lee to say something.

The captain moved to a chair and sank down. "I've seen him."

Nelson glared at him in shock. "What do you mean, you've seen him? Will hasn't let me within a block of him since I arrived. Six days ago!" And if he'd let this exhausted, depressed man in to see Chip, while holding off the admiral, then Nelson was going to have to have a little talk with Will.

Lee nodded and rubbed his hands up and down his arms as if he were cold. "Will calls it an induced coma. He says that they're going to try to keep Chip under for another day or two. He says it's healing..."

That was more than Will had said to him; Nelson frowned. He understood why Will had been more forthcoming with Lee. The captain looked like he was about to collapse; it was sheer stubbornness that was keeping him anywhere like functional right now. Sheer stubbornness was what had gotten him into Chip's cubicle in ICU, too.

Nelson suddenly realized that the person running past the waiting room earlier had been Lee, not Will. He had probably just arrived and had eluded doctors, nurses, and orderlies until he'd reached Will and made his demands. And Will, looking at him now, wouldn't have had the heart to keep him out. Nelson wouldn't have either, if it had come to that. He settled in a chair beside Lee. "Easy, now, lad. If Will says he's healing, then he'll be fine. It looks worse than it is." Empty words at best; Nelson had no idea how bad it actually looked. But he knew that the wound had been very serious indeed.

Lee hunched his shoulders up, and stared into memory. "Have you seen him, sir?" He didn't really need Nelson's head shake. Will would have explained how things were. "It looks very bad... I've never seen so many tubes..." He shuddered and let his voice trail away into silence.

Nelson didn't need to hear how bad it looked. He had seen worse, already. He had seen the blood, the beating... He'd seen the wounds left by Lura's knife. He knew that the bullet had come too close to the heart for comfort... Will had been ashen as he labored over Chip, trying to stop the bleeding. Even the two corpsmen, who had seen just about everything there was to see had looked as if they were simply going through the motions, too deep in shock to know what they were actually doing...

Evacuation was never Will's first choice. It was an option to use only if everything else failed... Seaview's Sick Bay was state-of-the-art with more amenities than most hospitals... Yet Will had felt the need to evacuate the XO, because of the perilous position of the bullet, because no matter how steady she was beneath the waves, he couldn't be sure that Seaview wouldn't pull the rock and roll before he had finished with surgery... And now, here they were, waiting for the outcome. Nelson grasped at something to try to change Lee's mood. "Only one or two more days? That's good, then. He's been in that coma for a good week already."

Lee looked up at him, his eyes indescribably weary. "It took a long time for Joe to find me... I was already in deep cover, listening. Do you really think I'd been compromised?"

So Parker had told him about Lura. Nelson said firmly, "Yes. Lura knew about your mission, even if he didn't know what it was. If he knew, then others knew, too. Anyone of those others might have sold you out."

"So there's a leak in Admiral Parker's office." Lee looked as if that burden, added to those he already carried, would break him, but Nelson knew better. "Does Gamma figure into this?"

The ultimate question… And Nelson didn't know the answer. He gently changed the subject. "You need to rest, son. You've had a rough few days. I didn't think Virginia would get you here that fast."

Lee smiled at the words, that shy smile that endeared him to the ladies. He was a pale shadow of himself, but that smile still held the power to charm. "I haven't slept for about six days, sir. First Joe and I got ourselves out of Pakistan in double time, then I pestered Captain Waters for news." The smile died too quickly. "He always liked Chip. I figured he'd know how..."

"I've been giving him daily updates." Nelson remembered Jackie Waters' anger, when he'd contacted Nelson to tell him that Virginia would do the extraction. He had always thought Chip should have stayed in the Navy, and he had never been shy about sharing his opinion with anyone who would listen. He had blasted Nelson with both barrels, and it had been a day or two before his anger had subsided enough that he'd apologized. Nelson wondered – not for the first time – if he could somehow lure Jackie over to the Institute...

He shook the thought away. Jackie would never leave the regular Navy. He had a deep distrust of the boats like Seaview that were a strange hybrid of regular Navy and civilian interests. Seaview was Nelson's, and she was a research vessel primarily. But she carried Naval missiles, and for that privilege, the Navy had the right to demand, read, and approve her logs, or to call on her at any time. He had a civilian crew – though many of them had been Navy or Marines – but she was officered by Naval officers, the best in the Fleet. The Navy kept a close eye on Seaview's comings and goings and used her when it could. She was private; but she was still all Navy.

He glanced at Lee again; the captain was brooding, sunk in his own dark thoughts. He had been captain of Seaview a good four years now. At first, Nelson had thought he would have a mutiny on his hands. His crew had resented the way Lee had come aboard that first time; Chip had resented the implied criticism of his security. He had not gotten along well with Lee that first cruise...

But they had warmed to each other since then; they had learned how well their different styles of leadership complemented each other, but more importantly, they had grown into friendship. A captain and his XO worked very closely together, and usually they grew to understand each other, but that didn't mean they became more than acquaintances. Lee was a handful of years older than Chip, and he had often been frustrated by Chip's inscrutability, until he had learned to read it. Nelson suspected that Lee had used his ONI clearance to snoop around in personnel files, struggling to learn what he could to help him connect with this crew. But that had stopped after he'd gotten to know his men, after he'd learned how to fit into this looser, more relaxed atmosphere.

It had taken him a little longer to learn how to read the emotions behind the mask Chip wore for much of the time. But Lee had an innate understanding of character, and covert skills that Chip had no defense against. His XO had been a challenge, but Lee knew how to dig deep and get what he wanted without being caught and without alienating his target. His unique combination of charm and sneakiness had served him well when attempting to gain information from a man so opposed to sharing his private thoughts. Lee had somehow gotten past that brick wall, one of only a handful who ever had...

It had been several years now since Nelson had felt any hostility at all between his command team; they had grown so comfortable with each other that they even joked with each other, sometimes with the crew looking on. Lee's razor wit, relentlessly employed, often pulled at least a smile out of Chip, a rare occurrence for anyone else who tried. Chip's own dry humor delivered in straight-faced one-liners often made Lee laugh out right. The camaraderie between them was good for morale; Seaview was a happy boat when both the members of her young command team were aboard, and in charge...

She hadn't been happy on the trip back to Pearl. Mr. Bishop had done a fine job, and the crew had even agreed with Nelson's opinion on that; he'd heard the hushed conversations as he strode through the hallways, but even if he hadn't, Francis Sharkey had filled him in. The crew – for once – approved of Bishop's handling of the boat.

But Seaview was still subtly different; as if she were missing something. She didn't purr like she did with Lee's hand at the helm; her engines didn't hum with suppressed excitement like they did when Chip's deft skill pulled more out of them than anyone else could. The top notch crew dragged, as if the life had gone out of them...

Nelson glanced again at Lee; the captain still sat quietly, his shoulders slumped, as if he carried the weight of the world on them. Nelson offered some words of encouragement. "Steady, lad. All will be well." He hoped that were true...

This time when the door opened, it was Will, looking almost as haggard as Lee did. But when he saw them both, he smiled – the first smile Nelson had had from him since this vigil began. "I don't know whether you have the magic touch, skipper, or what, but I will tell you that he's resting much easier now. He might even come out of the coma on his own." He sighed. "But don't think that means we're out of the woods. It was a very serious injury. We're fortunate the bullet didn't shift, and tear the pericardium or nick a major artery." He pulled up a chair and sat facing them, his hands lying clasped in his lap. Nelson had learned to judge how well Will's patients were doing by watching his hands. If they were still, the long fingers quiet, then his patients were doing well; if they were in motion, writhing and twisting, then Will had serious misgivings about his patients' welfare.

He was relieved to see that Will's hands were relaxed, the fingers still, and tuned into the doctor's words. "It will be at least three weeks – probably more - before we can release him from the hospital. He won't like that, but he's usually a little more tractable than you are, skipper." He paused to smile at Lee, a warm smile that took the sting out of the words. "We need the wound to heal a little more before we start physical therapy. He'll need to be familiar with the exercises before we can release him, and he will be responsible for doing them at least twice a day. But you won't have to worry about that. I have got that covered." He smiled at them, but the glint in his eyes left Nelson in no doubt that he meant every word. "It will be four to six months before he's ready for duty again. The beating and the knife wounds are minor..." Will grimaced at that, as if he were having a hard time swallowing those words. "It's the gunshot that's the problem. It chewed up a lot of muscle, struck a rib and deflected inward. That it didn't pierce the heart was a miracle. He's going to have to follow doctor's orders if he doesn't want to be tied down for even longer."

"He will," Nelson growled, seconded by another promise from Lee.

"I'll see to it personally if I have to, Will." The young voice was grim, but it sounded more alive than it had only a few minutes ago. Nelson looked at the young man sitting next to him, and saw the glint in the hazel eyes. Clearly, Will's new optimistic news had made him feel better.

"How soon can we transfer him to the Institute hospital?" Nelson knew the question was an important one. However good the base hospital at Pearl was, Chip would be far more comfortable amid familiar surroundings, with faces he knew looking after him.

Will thought about it for a moment, but before he could answer, the door to the waiting room opened again, and a nurse came in and bent over to whisper in Will's ear. He got up immediately, as he said quietly, "Sorry, gentlemen. We'll continue this in a little bit, okay?" Then he left the room.

Nelson wasn't about to be left behind; he rose from his chair, his action echoed by Lee. He glanced at the captain and nodded at the determination on that face. Then they would both follow Will and see what was happening. He led the way out the door, tailing Will through the halls, glaring down the nurses who tried to stop them. In the end, they came to the cubicle where Chip lay surrounded by monitors, and now by Will and a few nurses. Lee didn't pause at the door like Nelson did. Instead, the captain swept right into the room, coming to stand at Will's shoulder.

Will glanced at him and said sharply, "Skipper, you need to leave right now."

But Lee called his bluff with a fierce concern that echoed in Nelson's own heart. The admiral stepped forward to stand at his captain's shoulder. "Not happening, Will. Is he all right? What's going on?"

Will turned to face Lee with a frown; it was Nelson who saw Chip's fingers twitch, and his eyelids flutter. He moved forward instantly, growling at a nurse as he displaced her in his haste, and laid his hand over the groping fingers, bending closer, close enough to whisper to his young officer. "Come on, lad. Easy… Can you hear me?"

Will heard the words, however, turned back sharply, and heaved a long-suffering sigh. "I should have known that you two wouldn't stay put." He shook his head, dismissed the nurses – who left the room reluctantly, casting glances back over their shoulders, directed mostly at Lee - and moved closer to the bed, without displacing Nelson. "He's trying to wake up on his own. I think it's safe to let him." He laid a hand on Nelson's shoulder. "He's listening to you. Keep talking."

Nelson glanced aside at Will. "I feel like an idiot." Talking to a comatose patient… Yes, he knew that they could actually hear things even in the deepest coma. But there was no response that he could see…

Long elegant fingers turned under his and clasped his hand with a grip that was almost painful; surprisingly strong for a man who had lost so much blood he'd needed two transfusions, and had been put into an induced coma in order to heal… Nelson smiled at the thought. "That's some grip you have there. Trying to break my hand, son?"

The blue eyes fluttered open, but for a moment, they were frighteningly blank; long enough that Nelson's heart stuttered, before recognition flooded them, and the fingers began to struggle against the admiral's grip. "Sir…" The voice – usually a fine, light baritone – was coarse, hoarse and raspy. The bruises stood out against the pale skin. His lip was split in two places, and his left eye was practically swollen shut. There was a cut on his cheek that Nelson didn't remember. He shifted and winced. "Sir, what happened? Did Lee…?"

"Lee is fine." Lee moved forward and laid a hand on the bed. "In fact, I would like to point out that you're the one who got shot. For the second time in… How many months, Will?" He grinned. "Whereas, I haven't been shot in about a year and a half. Who's the trouble magnet, now?"

Will frowned at them both. "Lee, out. You've already seen him. Harry, you can stay." He bent a grim eye on his patient. "You need to rest, so Harry is not staying more than five minutes, and he is **not **going to tell you how he got the boat back. Or I swear to God, I will put you right back in an induced coma. Understood."

Those blue eyes, usually so icy cold, held only bewilderment and pain at the moment. But the pain was manageable, and the hand had stopped struggling against Nelson's stern grip. "I don't even know what…" Chip blinked and shifted uncomfortably, wincing in pain. His body had to be a mass of bruises after the beating he'd had; and the gunshot wound had scared them all enough that Nelson was willing to bet that everyone would make sure their XO followed Will's orders. But still he wanted news. "Lura?"

"Nope." Will crossed his arms as Lee backed up, but didn't leave the room. "Just once, you people need to follow my orders… Not that I expect that you will." He laughed then, and moved to the other side of the bed, pulling out a stethoscope to check Chip's heartbeat. "Good to have you back, commander. You gave us a real scare."

Nelson almost laughed at the understatement. Almost… But there was unfinished business with Lura, and this was no laughing matter. Instead, he smiled at his command team, and settled into the chair Lee pulled up for him. "All's well, that ends well."

And this at least had ended well; he could admit that to himself at this moment, when relief made him honest with himself. In a few weeks when Chip's absence was driving him crazy, and Lee was a bear because they would be choosing a new second officer, he would question the validity of that one simple fact... But now, other than the question of what to do with Roman Lura, everything had indeed ended well...

For Lura, the question was a bit dicier. There would be a court martial, but Lura would likely not receive prison time. He was madder than a hatter; he would be placed in an asylum, and Nelson had already suggested to Jiggs that it be one with maximum security, far, far away from Santa Barbara. They had already made the decision to send him to the Flint Hills Sanitarium in New York state. He would be well cared for there. And he would never get out to hurt anyone else, ever again…

But Nelson would be keeping an eye on him, just in case. He didn't take the safety of his boat and his men lightly. He didn't take his command team's safety lightly. He had watched Chip grow up into the fine young officer he now was; Lee had become the son he'd never had. Anyone who threatened them would have Nelson to deal with; Lura had found out just how dangerous injuring Nelson's own was. But Nelson wouldn't leave it there. Lura was a danger as long as he lived. He would have Nelson's weather eye on him for a long time to come.


End file.
